


It's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate.

by itsonlyforevernotlongatall



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sibling Incest, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsonlyforevernotlongatall/pseuds/itsonlyforevernotlongatall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock (16) gets expelled, yet again. He knows Mycroft will be furious with him, not that it deters him, in fact it encourages him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wheresmywatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheresmywatson/gifts).



It wasn’t the first time that Sherlock had been expelled, if he was honest, it was his fourth expulsion in just as many years. Personal best. Something that Mycroft, and mummy chided him on being proud of. But, honestly, he couldn’t help if other people were dull, if other people didn’t appreciate being corrected. He wasn’t going to apologise for being correct, why should he? He’d already suffered through his mother’s lecture, and escaped to his bedroom for the time being. He threw himself down on top of his mattress, awaiting his brother’s arrival home from university. He wasn’t pleased that Mycroft had been called when he was expelled, he wasn’t his father, he had no right getting himself involved. Though he couldn’t quite supress a smirk when he imagined his brothers face upon letting himself into Sherlock’s room to berate him. 

He could just visualise it, Mycroft wouldn’t even bother knocking, he’d just barge in trying to be authoritative, his suit slightly too tight around his middle. He’d close the door behind himself, and step up to the side of Sherlock’s bed, looking down his nose at him, almost sneering, arms crossed over his chest. Or perhaps he’d have one hand on his hip, the other rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he fought back a head ache. He’d sigh, just like father used to, and Sherlock supposed it was meant to make him feel bad, guilty for disappointing his brother, but it never did. Mycroft would start lecturing him, and Sherlock would push back, demand to be put into a school capable of teaching at a level suitable for people with more than two brain cells. Mycroft’s neck would flush like it always did when he was cross, but trying to keep his emotions under check.

Things would progress that way for a while, both brothers arguing back and forth like they always did. Sherlock managing to wind Mycroft up, and push all the right buttons until the veins on the sides of Mycroft’s neck, and the one on his forehead stood out against his flushed skin. His brother would be sweating by now, he always did when he shouted. It was something Sherlock loved to pick on him for, and Mycroft would reach into his pocket for one of his linen hankies to dab at his forehead, and neck not wanting to soil the shirt that would be cutting into his throat, the buttons far too tight. 

Sherlock sighed, and moved, rolling onto his stomach, startled when his attention was suddenly brought to his erection. An erection he wasn’t even aware that he had, yet there it was, straining against the front of his trousers, his weight pressing it between himself and the mattress below him. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, a soft groan forming in the back of his throat as the simple movement created a fizzle of pleasure in his groin. That was decisively new. He couldn’t ever remember getting an erection thinking of his brother before, or thinking of anyone if he were completely honest with himself, it was usually just his body reacting to the hormones coursing through his veins, a simple physiological reaction to his age. Something he took care of efficiently. He rolled his hips down against the mattress again, enjoying the little sparks that sizzled along his spine.   
Slowly, he rolled back onto his back, looking down his body at the slight bulge in the front of his trousers. It was a little more than strange seeing it like this, and one hand was already reaching down, tracing fingers over it experimentally. The sensation wasn’t as sharp as when he’d been rutting against the mattress, and he supposed he had to factor in the thickness of his trousers, and pants, and the lack of his body weight on his cock. His tongue darted out to swipe over his dry lips as he reached down with both hands to unfasten his fly, and pop the button open. This was entirely new to him, and he wanted to take his time. Explore the sensations properly. Find out which movements caused which sensations, which pressures felt the best, which speed brought him to orgasm the quickest. He had his trousers bundled around his knees, forgotten for the moment as he stared a small dark, damp patch on the grey cotton of his pants. Again, that was new, he was usually nude when his body decided to see physical pleasures. Prime time being first thing in the morning, before he pulled on sleep trousers to go down stairs, or when he was in the shower. He licked over his lips again, his index finger tracing over the small damp patch, a startled gasp falling from his lips when he both, felt and saw his cock give an interested twitch underneath the cotton. 

His movements were almost frantic when he kicked his shoes, and trousers off, hands pushing at his pants as he struggled to free his feet. He managed, having to sit forward and tug at the mass of fabric with both hands throwing it to the floor not caring to take notice of where it landed. With his cock freed, he lay back again, reaching behind him for his pillows so that he’d be able to angle his head to look down his body to look down at himself as he touched. He didn’t bother removing his shirt, too impatient. Tugging it up slightly would suffice anyway, so long as it didn’t block his line of vision, he didn’t care what happened to it whether it got soiled or not. He took a moment, just looking at his erection, watching as it twitched impatiently against his belly, leaving a sticky trail of precome against his skin when the head made contact. He’d never taken the time to really look at himself when he was aroused, it wasn’t something that he had deemed important or interesting but now he was struggling to look away. His cock was flushed with the excess blood, the crown peeking out from under his foreskin, the very tip damp and shiny. There was a slight curve to his cock too, making it stand out from his pubic hair and curve upwards towards his belly. He’d heard snippets of conversation from the other students, and he knew that genitals came in different shapes and sizes, though he’d never had the opportunity or desire to compare before, he was suddenly curious if his would be classed as desirable or not by others. He wiggled slightly trying to get comfortable with the idea that he was going to touch himself. Almost shyly, he reached down just allowing his fingers to graze over the side of his cock, knuckles brushing down the length of his shaft from root to tip. Again his cock twitched at the light touch a fresh bead of precome forming at the head of his cock. His fingers traced a different path back up his cock, and one finger brushed through the pearl of liquid sitting against the tip smearing it across his slit and across his finger tip. A blush formed on his cheeks as he brought his soiled finger to his face sniffing at it, he felt filthy for doing something like that, but he couldn’t deny that there was a small surge of excitement lying just below the surface too. Daring a little more, his finger slipped past his lips and into his mouth. He salivated immediately at the bitter taste, the smell of his own sexual musk still filling his nostrils, probably filling his head more now that he had the taste of it in his mouth too. 

He pulled his finger from his mouth with a wet pop and parted his legs further his hand dipping down between his thighs, bypassing his cock completely this time. He drew in a ragged breath as his finger-tips stroked over his sac that was something he’d not done in the past. He’d never considered his testicles to be a source of sexual pleasure when masturbating. The exploring hand returned to his cock and his fingers gripped at himself slightly, forming a fist. He’d heard some of the other boys in his year talking about ‘fucking their fists’, so he assumed it’d be something similar to this. He moved his hand slightly, sliding his fist down the length of his cock feeling his foreskin shift and retract pulling a whimper from him as his hips rose up into his fist, chasing the sensation. Reluctantly he had to admit how this could be seen as enjoyable and he was starting to understand why so many people seemed to be so obsessed with touching themselves and touching each other. He let his mind wander again, back to his brother, back to the reason he was half naked stroking his erection with one hand. He knew for a fact that his brother was sexually active, it was obvious when he came home, that he’d been shagging someone, who though, Sherlock didn’t know and it annoyed him to no end that Mycroft would simply smirk and tell him that it wasn’t any of his business. His hand sped up slightly, tugging at himself a little faster, a little harder than he had been and he closed his eyes to just enjoy the sensations, even allowing himself to lift his hips up from the mattress thrusting into his hand as he stroked. 

He knew his mother was down stairs, knew that his brother would be arriving home soon, and he knew that there was at least one member of house staff still floating around so he tried to keep as quiet as possible. Bitting down on his lip to resist the temptation to call out, to whine, whimper, moan, make any sort of sound that would draw attention to him. He couldn’t help the sound of his bed squeaking slightly, or the faint slapping sound of skin on skin as his movements became frantic. He could feel his thighs quivering, his stomach knotting up in a way that he knew meant that his orgasm wasn’t far off, but he didn’t want this to end so quickly, he hadn’t gotten the chance to try everything yet. A frustrated grunt escaped despite his best efforts, as he felt his balls tighten, then he was panting his body rigid against the mattress as he came, his semen splattering over his fingers and stomach, some reaching the hem of his shirt without him noticing. 

When his body had relaxed enough, he let go of his cock, and lay flat on his back his legs still spread, shirt still tugged up to expose his belly as he lay panting, trying to catch his breath, face flushed, lips red and swollen from biting at them trying to keep from making too much noise. This was certainly something that he’d have to revisit again later, there were far too many variables that he hadn’t gotten to explore. Lazily, Sherlock rolled into his side and looked at the small clock on the bedside table and forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of his bed. He had about ten minutes before his brother was due home, so he took a moment to study his body as he sat. He was half way back to flaccid now, cock lounging lazy and fat against his thigh. He crinkled his nose as he reached down and poked at it, breath catching in the back of his throat at the sudden, unexpected sensitivity. His shirt had fallen down over his stomach by now, and most of his semen was currently soaking into the fabric so he pulled it over his head and used it to wipe himself down, before standing and collecting his pants and trousers. 

He was stood in his trousers, half way to his closet to get a fresh shirt when his bedroom door swung open and a very red Mycroft stomped inside, slamming the door shut behind himself and Sherlock couldn't help but lick his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised wheresmywatson that I'd write her a fic ages ago, and because I'm a butt I only just got around to it, and writing is hard. So. 
> 
> This is also a belated birthday pressie, enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> Should there be another chapter? I'm not sure. Let me know.


End file.
